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Read this if you're new (or bored...).
2005-07-12 - 12:02 a.m.
Insecure much?
Damn it, I got halfway through an entry and I somehow managed to close the box. Anyway. Let's see, first I talked about my waste of a summer. That's right. I've read maybe five books total; the last movie I've seen was Batman Begins, which it took me two weeks to get to; the last video I've seen was Lost in TRanslation, which I've had sitting around for like six months; my social life is virtually nonexistant, broken up by binge-weekends thatI feel pressured to have go flawlessly so that they can sustain me through the dry spells; I don't know when I've last written a poem; my prose has been sparse at best. I'm just not experiencing things. This is probably my last free summer ever, and Im not doing anything. I won't be able to just run away and do new things when I have a career to further and a family to support and nourish. But Im not able to do that now, either. Another thing. I hate working at Target. You know this. And pretty much everyone shops at Target, at least occasionally. So the odds of me seeing someone I know are good on any given day And they see me. And they know me, and they know basic math, so they can figure out very quickly that I graduated college and am *still* working at Target. This isn't like lifeguarding, which is obviously a summer job, or working at a bank or post office, which even if they become permanent jobs, are respected ones. I don't know anyone who respects the higher-ups at Target, much less the cashiers. And then I see these people I know, and I ask them what they're up to, and they say, "Oh, you know, working," and tell me about these real, actual, career-based jobs (often in my field, without the master's), and give me this tiny little "how the mighty have fallen" smirk. See, when I was younger, and I was tormented on bad days and just plain blown off on good days, my main solace was that while the other kids were off doing sports and drinking and pretending to understand the complexities of relationships and generally doing the mysterious things that make one popular, I wasworking hard on my schoolwork, and that would eventually get me ahead. They'd get theres, and I'd get mine, and someday they'd see and maybe, if they didn't wish they'd been nice to me (because that just won't happen), they'd at at least see that they were mistaken. That they'd missed their chance. Well, they didn't miss much, because look who's getting along and who isn't. I, who was always so --- shit, I don't even know what my primary malfunction was, but it must have been pretty bad -- I just can't make it. Oh, I tell them I'm going to NYU for grad school, and if I can I add that I'm going to be a GA. It feels like a copout. "Sure, I look like a failure, but I'm not! REally!" Hell, I'm about six inches away from saying that verbatim. And now we're on the subject of NYU. Here's where I really sound like a fool. You ready? I am as intimidated as all hell of moving to NEw York. Ok, on some level I'm worried about getting stuck there. I know the BF wants to end up not far from where he grew up, and if I go to school there, then get a job there, it's a good excuse for him to settle there, and BAM. There I am... for good. So much for seeing the rest of the world. Also, you know the song? The lyric that goes "If I can make it there/ I'll make it anywhere"? Well, seems to me the logical corollary is, "If I can't make it there, I suck at life." So obviously I feel a lot of pressure to make it. And then, what if I don't? And everything I read or see or hear about New York is just so intimidating. There's so many extremes. It's so intense, so... much. I mean, I'm *barely* a Philadelphia, and anyone who's eve seen both cities will tell you right away that they aren't the same at all. And I'm not a tough person, which don;t you have to be to live there? And I have minimal street smarts. I know not to go out after dark alone, but if I don't make friends fast, I basically won't be going out after dark at all. I don't know fashion beyond the basic fact that I like simple things that fit me. I don't fit any niche -- I'm not arty, classy, stylish, sophisticated, Bohemian, urban, *anything*. I'm as boring as a chunk of cement. I freely admit that I don't know how the world works. And I'm supposed to thrive in *New York City*? Please. Why don't I just work at the Review, live in my parents' house, and ring crap up at Target on the weekends. Because if I do that, I'm going to want to kill myself. So, on to New York, and isolation, alienation, and potential failure. At best, a Master's degree and a furthering of the sense that I will never fit in. And damn it, I'm an adult. I'm supposed to know where I fit in by now.
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